The Flight of the Rocketman

First I dream my painting, then I paint my dream -- Vincent Van Goh

I have discovered that I am at my most happiest when I am working. When I am a productive member of society, I am at my best. When I produce something and it serves the purpose that it was made for, I am fine. I am good. Life is good when I am busy with work.

Does this make me a workaholic? I don't know. Maybe? All I know is that I am happy about it. I am happy about that fact that I can earn my space in this world. I know that I am a part of this civilization, of this world. That the little ripples that I make in this ocean we call life, becomes part of the waves that crash upon the tides of history. They maybe tiny and insignificant when seen from the whole perspective of history, I have yet to make something of monumental proportions but the point is, somewhere there, I know I'm making my way and trying my best to continue making the world turn.

And so I throw myself at my work and enjoy every little minute of it. The quandary that grabs me by the throat is that I am torn between making more money doing projects I don't like or making less money working on a television show I believe in, and in an environment that is fun and creative and conducive to creative work.

But that doesn't have to be solved now. Right now, I would just love to enjoy the glow and aura of work. Bathe in it.

I had a pretty good Halloween party. Went to Cream in Makati and all of my friends and I went as army people. It was my first time to ever wear a sleeveless shirt in public (or in a party, at least) and I had eye-liner marks under my eyes, making it look like I was a camouflage unit, but I think it ended up looking more like the ones American football players have under their eyes, rather than a special forces thing. But it felt great. And I danced crazy, realising I've haven't danced in a long time. So it was fun and grand.

I loved it. It was great.

I just wonder why some people don't have the will power to say no to certain things. It was a promise and it was broken and I found myself pretty much alone (except for my partner and 2 friends that I had pretty much just met that night). Everybody else was somewhere else, in another plane. There were promises that were made. In a funny way, there was a pact that was made. It all disappeared. It only takes one person, you know? And the rest will follow. But I didn't. I found strength elsewhere. I was able to take it from the love that came, it came from the person dancing beside me. It filled me; gave me focus and strength. And I knew I didn't have to let go to have fun. I could just dance and dance and that was a high on its own accord. And I did get high on it, dancing, feeling good, feeling like I looked good.

And that got me through. I'll hold on to that strength. I'm in a good place now. I can't risk losing it to the darkness. The darkness feels good, yes, but it can get confusing and you can end up losing your way. I don't want to lose my way again.